


Let me be the song in your head (let me be the song in your bed)

by zimriya



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Romantic Comedy, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 10:24:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15192746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zimriya/pseuds/zimriya
Summary: Realistically, Changmin knows he can’t blame his failure to make bread on his soulmate. Because while he’s spent the better half of an hour with a song about a family of sharks blasting behind his temples to the point where he can’t even think, Changmin is appalling at pastries anyways, even when he isn’t being assaulted by nursery rhymes.Today, he’s ruined at least half a round of rolls because of over-kneading, and if he has to listen to the Baby Shark Song one more time, Changmin thinks he might snap and embrace the shark life (doo doo doo doo) and leave Seoul for the sea.Or, the one where the Song in your head is the one your soulmate is singing. A kind of AU.





	Let me be the song in your head (let me be the song in your bed)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mobiledoll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mobiledoll/gifts).



> I think we all know what this is based on. We should all listen to Road and watch 72 Hours.
> 
> For mobiledoll, because she said: OTP AU where if you’re soulmates you’d break into a song if the other person is singing, and I said: consider instead, the song in your head is the song your soulmate is singing, and this was born.
> 
> And yes, I wrote nine thousand words on a phone.
> 
> Betaed by Aixing and Hexmen. All other mistakes are my own. Honorable mention to Vic, who helped me cut a line b/c it didn’t make any grammatical sense AND I COULDN’T FIX IT AND IT HURT TO TAKE IT OUT but she held my hand when I had to remove it.

**Let me be the song in your head (let me be the song in your bed)**

\--

Realistically, Changmin knows he can’t blame his failure to make bread on his soulmate. Because while he’s spent the better half of an hour with a song about a family of sharks blasting behind his temples to the point where he can’t even think, Changmin is appalling at pastries _anyways_ , even when he isn’t being assaulted by nursery rhymes. 

He’s a stage, and he applied to be mentored under Choi Chef-nim, but just the other day they had him attempting to make delicate triangles of icing and saying it had not gone well was probably being too kind. That day, there hadn’t even been the excuse of a ridiculous nursery school rhyme stuck in his head; Changmin was a failure all on his own.

Today, he’s ruined at least half a round of rolls because of over-kneading, and if he has to listen to the Baby Shark Song _one more time_ , Changmin thinks he might snap and embrace the shark life (doo doo doo doo) and leave Seoul for the sea. 

So, he blames it on his soulmate.

When Sungyeop-hyung comes by to check on him even though he isn’t in charge of pastries, Changmin is in the middle of explaining to his suddenly more understanding superiors that his soulmate has been singing a nursery rhyme all day, and that’s why he’s so distracted. 

“A nursery school rhyme,” Sungyeop-hyung says.

He’s not actually a hyung, but Changmin can’t let himself think of him as a junior when Sungyeop-hyung’s been working in the kitchen for a full two years more than Changmin.

“Are you sure your soulmate isn’t a kid?”

And… also because if Changmin starts to think of Sungyeop-hyung as someone he could hit for saying shit like that, Changmin’s going to be out on the street before he can so much as survive his first two weeks. 

“One week I woke up to ‘Partition’ by Beyoncé for seven days straight,” Changmin manages eventually, trying not to show any emotion. “There were adlibs. I don’t think they’ve got the same vocal range as I do, though, since the high notes didn’t come through as clearly.” 

Sungyeop-hyung stares back at him. “Ah,” he says. “So how long have you heard her?”

Changmin doesn’t think about the tiny part of him that thinks it’s stupid to try to gender a voice in your head. His own voice, actually, since it’s not like Changmin, or anyone else for that matter, is going around hearing another real-life person singing songs in their heads. At the most, there have been vague feelings accompanying the melodies. Sometimes Changmin gets words, if he knows the song, but it’s still always his own voice blaring trot and bad pop songs like some sort of supremely annoying unending radio.

“Since I was fifteen,” Changmin finally answers Sungyeop-hyung. “When I failed my SM audition.” 

“Ah,” Sungyeop-hyung says.

“That’s so romantic,” Heymi-noona says.

“Doesn’t that mean you met her at SM?” Sungyeop-hyung says. “Isn’t that how it works--Hey, what if she’s in SNSD?”

“They’re not in SNSD,” Changmin says immediately. 

Sungyeop-hyung frowns at the swiftness of Changmin’s response.

“And no, I’ve never gotten unreleased songs. It’s safe to say that they failed their SM audition too.” Changmin pauses, mouth pulling down at the edges. “Or they were just in the area,” he adds. 

Sungyeop-hyung blinks at him. “So, I take it you’ve never done a Song Search?” he says. 

Changmin is starting to regret having brought up the excuse to begin with. The Baby Shark Song is still continuing in the back his head, but it’s muted now, like the other half of his soul has stopped singing the thing and is instead just thinking about it. Which is weird in and of itself. Changmin’s only heard of people with connections like that who’ve actually met each other and been married for years--for example: his parents--but that’s really the only explanation for it. 

Some part of him can’t wait to get off work and blast X Japan in revenge. 

“Hey.” Sungyeop-hyung sets both hands down on the counter in front of Changmin, startling him. “You’re smiling again.” 

Changmin blinks. “People do that,” he says.

Heymi-noona hides a smile behind her hand but keeps silent when Changmin glances at her. 

Sungyeop-hyung rolls his eyes. “What are your Chuseok plans?” he asks instead. 

“My parents are going on holiday,” Changmin says. “So I am too.”  There’s a beat. “Without them,” he clarifies. “Apparently that’s a thing they can do now that we’re all old.” He frowns. “That seems mean to Jiyeon, honestly; she’s like twenty six.”

Sungyeop-hyung grins.

Changmin wants to slap him. “I call you hyung in my head because you’ve been working here longer, but I’m still older than you.”

Sungyeop-hyung keeps grinning. “That’s right: you’re ancient,” he says, around the time Choi Chef-nim passes them neatly in the kitchen, eyes and ears everywhere.

Changmin swallows so hard it hurts, Sungyeop-hyung vanishes off to his part of the kitchen, and Heymi-noona goes back to watching Changmin fail to properly roll rolls.

In Changmin’s head, the Baby Shark Song continues.

\--

“The Baby Shark Song,” Kyuhyun says. 

Changmin rounds a hand more solidly around his beer and heaves a sigh. “Yes, Kyuhyun,” he says. 

Kyuhyun ignores him, tapping a finger against the wood of Changmin’s coffee table in consideration. “Are you sure she’s not a kid?” 

Kyuhyun is only fifteen days older than Changmin and not in any way shape or form his superior in the kitchen he’d one day like to be able to replicate on his own. He’s also a terrible asshole of a best friend.

Changmin feels absolutely no hesitance to thwack _him_ on the back of the head. “Shut up,” he says.

It’s a gentle, friendly sort of thwack. Kyuhyun still makes a huge deal over it, even as his eyes are sparkling from more than just good alcohol. 

“They’re not a kid,” Changmin says. The neutral pronoun is further highlighted by his use of pronouns period.

Kyuhyun is still grinning. “Yeah, okay,” he says. “You’re still hung up on their gender?”

“I’m not the one who’s going to be disappointed if my soulmate isn’t f(x)’s Victoria,” Changmin retorts immediately. “And it’s stupid to try to figure things out about them from your own voice in your head--”

“--your own voice in your head--I know,” Kyuhyun says alongside him, parroting Changmin’s words before he can even finish his sentence. “You’ve said. And said. And said--”

“Are you done?” says Changmin.

“You know the entire point of a Song Search is to make sweeping judgements about the voice in your head, right?” Kyuhyun says. “Like, that is literally the point.” 

“Yeah, okay Mr. ‘Either I’m crazy, or I’ve heard ‘Nu ABO’ before,’” Changmin says. 

Kyuhyun scowls at him. “I have.”

“Okay.”

“I _have_.”

“O _kay_ \--”

Minho finally emerges from the bathroom to stare between the two of them with mild concern. “What are we fighting about now?” 

“‘Nu ABO’,” Changmin says immediately. 

“Chwang’s Song Search,” Kyuhyun says at the same time as Changmin. He wins. That’s a much more interesting thing to be arguing about.

“Ah,” says Minho. “Are you finally going, Changmin-hyung?”

Changmin feels a headache start behind his temples. “You know what? Sure,” he says. “I’m really visiting Japan for Chuseok not because my mother is tired of me being Songless and decided to spend the holiday on Jeju Island with my father, but really because whomever is singing _nursery rhymes_ in my head once upon a time started humming in Japanese.” 

Kyuhyun crosses his arms, unimpressed, but Changmin keeps going.

“In fact, I’m going to Obihiro because I looked up the tune one day and it turns out that’s the song they play in the Obihiro train stations--”

“We get it you want to die sad and alone wanking to the Baby Shark Song instead of fucking to the Baby Shark Song,” interjects Kyuhyun, tapping his beer bottle against Changmin’s. “Cheers, you asswipe.” 

Changmin grins happily back at him. “You love me, you dickface.”

“You’re both idiots,” Minho mutters, but settles down between them to drink anyway. “Are you really going to Obihiro?”

Changmin swallows his mouthful. “Yep. And you’re supposed to be here to help me pack, actually.” He stands and makes his way over to his empty suitcase, half packed and still lying open on one of the chairs in his makeshift kitchenette.

Kyuhyun looks up at him. “What, so you can impress the soulmate you’re not going looking for?”

Changmin throws a t-shirt at him--an old one, from their college days, back when Kyu’s mom was convinced that the both of them were going to end up in accounting, or something, instead of internet security (Kyu) and training to become a chef (Changmin) while Minho, significantly more with the program, finished working his way through the Wild West of professional sports. 

It’s probably too small, probably wasn’t purchased by Changmin anyway, and as good as anything for a projectile to be hurled at Kyuhyun

His friend doesn’t dodge the shirt, but he does pull it off of his face immediately to stare at it. “‘Sorry girls I only date models,’” he reads, accent a little strong. “Yeah, okay, I see your point. When’s the last time you went shopping?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, my life is a little bit busy,” Changmin says. 

“You don’t have to get up until like eight, though,” Minho says distractedly. “Who even bought you that--”

“Siwon-hyung,” Changmin and Kyuhyun chorus. “Absolutely Siwon-hyung.” 

Minho’s left eye twitches. “Right,” he says. “Because chaebol heirs totally go shopping for shitty t-shirts.” 

Changmin turns to look at his youngest friend. “Have you seen Siwon-hyung’s closet?”  

“No, because unlike you I don’t have a death wish or a thing for repressed billionaires,” Minho shoots back immediately, and Changmin sputters.

“We were friends!” 

“Friends who got very intimate with Siwon-hyung’s closet,” Kyuhyun says, waggling his eyebrows. 

“Fuck you both, you suck,” Changmin complains. He goes back to rummaging through his suitcase. 

His friends definitely high five behind his back. 

Changmin starts picking at a loose thread of fabric at the seam of his suitcase and frowns. He keeps picking. 

One of them--Kyuhyun--finally sighs and stands. “Chwang-ah,” he says.

Changmin doesn’t turn to look at him--just keeps worrying non-existent strings of fabric. He should just take a bag. The trip isn’t supposed to take more than a few days, to his mother’s eternal chagrin. Song Searches are big to-dos that can take weeks of planning and are supposed to last longer than the three days Changmin’s off work to celebrate Chuseok.  

“Look, there isn’t supposed to be one way to find them,” his friend says. “Isn’t that what you used to say about it?” 

“Kyu, I met them when I was fifteen years old,” Changmin says, still not looking at either of them. “And I think. If I hadn’t just stood there—if I hadn’t been distracted by whatever the heck song was blasting in my ears--”

“‘Peace’ by Lee Junghyun-noona--Changmin--”

Changmin keeps talking. “I might have been able to clap, or something, and keep... going.” He frowns. “I think we were supposed to meet if I had kept going.” 

Kyuhyun reaches out to pull him into a hug, and Changmin lets him, even though he can tell his friend is about three seconds from trying to knee him in the balls to ease the mood. 

Something in that must still Kyuhyun, though, because the other man sighs and squeezes Changmin surprisingly gently before letting him go. “Yeah. Well,” he says. “That was a bad year for SM anyway.” 

Changmin’s lips twitch. 

“All they had was that terrible Seasons band that didn’t even last one music program, and that weird hip-hop group.” 

Changmin concedes the grin. “You liked the hip-hop group,” he says, even though he hadn’t met Kyuhyun at that point. They ended up together at the same college with the same, frantic inability to figure out what they were doing with their lives, and fell together like two pieces of a puzzle when they realized they’d both somehow failed their way out of the fame circuit with SM Entertainment. 

They had gotten drunk one day after a midterm and unloaded a whole bucket-load of feelings about their various journeys and about the people who had made it through to debut.

“I had terrible taste,” says Kyuhyun.

Minho comes up between them and drapes himself all over Changmin, a calculated, warming move; Changmin has to hold him to keep from falling, and Minho’s hugs never come with a knee to the balls and they actually make Changmin feel like he can face the entire universe.

“Are you two done being saps?” their youngest friend says. 

“No,” Changmin and Kyuhyun say simultaneously, before leaning in to kiss Minho on both cheeks, fingers tickling and pinching despite the younger man’s protests and laughter. 

They chase him through the apartment, cackling.

Afterwards, they all end up sprawled on Changmin’s bed, staring at his ceiling. “So, you’re actually doing a Search, then,” Minho is the first to say.

“Yeah,” Changmin says. His heart is in his throat.

Kyuhyun squeezes his hand. 

\--

Changmin gets off the plane and immediately regrets his decisions. He’d picked Japan because he studied abroad in college and hadn’t let himself get too lax on the language, but he’d picked Obihiro specifically because something in his heart was telling him to. In short, he’d thrown darts at a map of the world because it was three a.m., his mother had been sending him sad emoji all evening, and desperation said book a plane ticket and get the heck out of there.

Mid-September means the end of summer and long pants and layered shirts, but Hokkaido is still bright enough that Changmin has to wear sunglasses when he arrives at the Song Search Agency, heart pounding. 

The building looks nondescript and pleasant, and scares Changmin shitless. 

He pulls out his phone.

 _Minho-yah._  Minho is safe. Minho won’t laugh at him or share his messages with random strangers and might actually provide him with decent advice.  _I can’t go in there_. 

 _Hyung_ , Minho replies immediately--that’s another thing about Minho; he understands the urgency of the situation and also works weird professional sport hours and can therefore cater to Changmin’s breakdowns in the middle of the workday-- _You don’t have to go in there_.  

_I mean, what are they going to have me do--describe the Songs and draw me a picture?_

_Uh, yes?_

_Because I’m a man so they’re going to draw me a lady anyway--_

_Changmin-hyung._

_And that’s stupid and pointless and frankly, it’s 2018--_

_Changmin-hyung._

_So you’re right, Minho-yah, I don’t have to go in there_ , Changmin concludes emphatically. _I’m only here because I threw darts anyway: I’m just going to close my eyes and get on a bus._

His phone starts ringing before he can so much as be pleased to have sent that last tirade. Changmin answers it, surprised. “Minho-yah--”

“You are not allowed to close your eyes and walk out into the road to get on a bus, Changmin-hyung!” Minho shouts-- _shouts_ \--what feels like directly into Changmin’s ear drum. 

Changmin pulls the phone away from his ear, startled. “What--Minho--”

“You are not allowed to do that, Changmin-hyung!” Minho continues shouting, audible even though Changmin’s pulled the phone far away from his face. “That is stupid and dangerous and you are not stupid!”

Changmin waits a minute for his ears to stop ringing, but then put the phone back to his ear. “But I am dangerous,” he clarifies. 

“For my Goddamn health,” Minho swears furiously, and hangs up on him. 

Changmin blinks dazedly a few times. _But to clarify, I am allowed to say fuck the formality and just go off on my own?_ he messages Minho.

 _Duh_ , Minho replies instantly. _Isn’t that more romantic anyway?_

Changmin swallows the sudden lump in his throat. _Minho-yah._

_Look, you talk a big game about it, Hyung, but I know that’s just cause Kyu-hyung is an idiot, and you’re scared._

Changmin is maybe starting to regret having called upon Minho. Minho is far too wise about these sorts of things, and the fact that Changmin is literally an entire country away appears to be giving him all sorts of bravery. He doesn’t say anything.

Minho keeps going regardless. _Look just. You’re there, and it’s Chuseok, and Hokkaido sounds beautiful so have fun and don’t worry so much, okay, Hyung?_

Changmin swallows more lumps in his throat. _When did you stop being such an asshole?_ he says finally. 

 _When this Hyung I’ve known since college kicked me out of his apartment because I beat him playing FIFA_ , Minho replies immediately, to Changmin’s horror. _Now stop texting me and go find them._  

 _You’re dead to me_ , Changmin says, which isn’t ‘thank you,’ but Minho knows anyway. 

_:)_

\--

They draw him a woman.

Changmin has to go through an entire thirty minutes of in-depth interview about the sorts of Songs his soulmate likes to sing, and all Changmin gets out of it is some helpful information he already knew (eighteen-year-old Changmin, three years into the whole ‘I can hear someone else singing in my head’ thing had been significantly more desperate for information and also, at an age where telling his friends and family was more acceptable) and a drawing of a woman.

Sure, Changmin lied and didn’t mention that the last Song he’d heard that morning had been the Jeju Air ad theme song. But then, maybe that one was Changmin’s fault since he’d been the one in the airport humming along to the thing and rolling his eyes at the poor idols tasked with wiggling or whatever to the tune of ‘Refresh Point’ in the first place.

He hadn’t left the Baby Shark Song out. He’d even conceded the point that his soulmate had halfway decent taste in music, some of the time, but also, at no point had he been asked anything about _himself_.

And they gave him a drawing of a woman.

 _Humanity is flawed_ , he texts Minho when he gets onto the first bus he finds heading who knows where. He pays the driver, smiles on his way to the first empty seat, and continues to frown down at his phone. Maybe he ought to get a hotel, but then, it’s not like he has more than his bag. 

That’s what you do when you go on a Song Search: pack up your life, visit a therapist (sorry, Song Guide), get a drawing (sorry, Song Render) and embark on the most irrational and somehow beautiful adventure of modern times. 

Changmin doesn't know what to do with his hands. He looks down at his phone.

 _You went into the thing, didn’t yo_ u, Minho has said. 

Changmin sighs.  _Yeah_.

 _Pics or it didn’t happen,_  Minho says.  _Send it to Kyu-hyung too. It’ll save me the trouble._

Changmin feels a headache starting between his eyes, and for a second he is thrown. Usually, he’d have some sort of musical accompaniment for the pain: nursery rhymes or trot or even, occasionally, songs Changmin liked, even if they were mostly English and from a period well before his. But ignoring the Jeju Air CF, Changmin’s been alone in his head all morning. Which is weird. 

 _Minho-yah_ , he says. _What happens if your soulmate dies_?

Minho is worryingly silent. _See,_ he says finally. _This is why no matter how much you complain about the singing, it’s good you have someone so communicative._

Changmin’s mouth opens in barely concealed glee. _Are you finally going to give me the details about yours?_

Minho ignores him. _Some people don’t sing every waking moment, Changmin-hyung_ , he says. _Case in point: You_.

Changmin mulls that over. _Fair_ , he concedes. _But my soulmate sings all the time_.

It’s true. From the moment he walked out of SM Entertainment in 2002, Changmin has never really been alone in his head. Sure, there have been moments of peace and quiet. Finals week, a little earlier than Changmin’s own, and more evidence his soulmate wasn’t a child. Two years of nothing but the military band and drill mnemonics, months before Changmin went off to serve himself, and further proof that despite the propensity towards nursery rhymes and dated, annoyingly catchy pop music, Changmin’s soulmate is someone his own age. 

(And a man, since women don’t serve, but Changmin doesn’t like to dwell on that, doesn’t want to think about that; hasn’t had time for more than gender neutral pronouns since that.) 

Changmin has moments of quiet because nobody sings every waking moment of their lives, but this feels different. This feels calculated and a little like a challenge. For a second, some hopeful part of Changmin actually believes whoever’s on the other end of his musical telepathic connection is looking for him as well. 

But then he dismisses that thought and opens the pad of paper he’d gotten at the agency. 

The woman who’d helped him had been humming a pretty Japanese pop song, and smiling every so often like someone else had been interjecting with their own rendition. Changmin had for a moment been distracted by how much he wanted that.

She’d given him a mostly empty sketchbook while he waited, and the wait time had been long enough that Changmin did in fact make use of it and write out some recipes and maybe lyrics. During the therapy session from heteronormative hell, she’d drawn the Song Render itself, and afterwards, Changmin had been left with a mostly empty sketchbook and instructions to continue to draw clues.

He flips open to the sketch, snaps a quick photo of the woman on the page to send to his friends, and sighs. 

Maybe he ought to sing something. 

The bus stops. 

 _Wow_ , Kyuhyun replies at the same time a hoard of schoolchildren and one long suffering teacher climb on board. _I mean, she’s pretty but I never got the sense…_ he trails off like he’s looking for tact and Changmin sighs, standing so the kids can all sit together and making his way to the front of the bus. 

The stop they’re at is wooded and non-descriptive and all Changmin has is a map and poor sense, but everything in him is telling him to get off the bus.

He gets off the bus. 

 _Kyu I told you I was hearing the army march months before I shipped off to serve right?_ he types as he disembarks. There’s someone waiting to get on after him, and the person had been starting for the stairs right when Changmin’s dumb heart said get off, so Changmin can’t do more than duck his head to avoid losing his phone to the Obihiro mud and apologize quickly in Korean.

“Sorry.”

He does it reflexively, bows and shifts by the person to make his way out into the open air, and definitely misses the hitch to whoever’s breath at his language choice. 

 _Oh thank God_ , Kyuhyun has replied.  _Listen, I support you, Chwang, and I’ve always supported you, Chwang, but you were staring to be really annoying about it._

 _What, my looming identity crisis because the other half of my soul is apparently legally obligated and able to serve in the military?_ Changmin says. 

The bus pulls off, and with it, Changmin’s gut feeling of action. He almost feels off balance, but there’s no wind, and no one around, and no reason for Changmin to be thinking he’s missed something momentous.

He frowns, confused, alone in the middle of the woods, but keeps typing away at his phone anyway. Just up ahead he can make out a train station, and that’s a good enough place to start as any. 

 _You can just say they’ve got a dick, Changmin_ , Kyuhyun has said. _He can just say they’ve got a dick. Tell him, Minho-yah._

 _I’ve already exceeded my Changmin-hyung crisis quota for today_ , Minho replies. _But Changmin-hyung._

Changmin blinks down at his phone, waiting.

_That girl has really pretty lips._

Changmin pauses, and for some horrible reason, blushes. _Shut up._

 _No, hear me out_ , Minho says. _I know you didn’t tell them anything beyond it’s been sixteen years--_

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Changmin’s agent had said, apologetic. “Were you not able to search sooner?”

“No.” Changmin had been two seconds from an eye twitch. “I didn’t see the rush, honestly.” 

\-- _but they’re professionals so they must have gotten some things right._

 _Well it’s just a face, but I can guarantee if they’d let Changmin design the body she’d be much more gifted_ , Kyuhyun says.

Changmin pinches the bridge if his nose. _I told you that in confidence, asshat_ , he says. 

 _What, that you’re a boobs guy?_ Minho says. _Changmin, everybody knows that_. 

Changmin pinches the bridge of his nose harder.

 _I mean_ , Minho continues. _You’re really bad at kneading bread, which is surprising given this fact--_

Changmin snorts despite himself, says, “Okay, you’re all fired,” rather pointlessly out loud, and puts his phone away. 

His gut feeling seems happy with that. 

Song Searches are supposed to be about detaching from the world so that you can find your other half of it, anyway. 

Changmin really ought to be on radio silence, to be safe. But then, given that he’s been on actual radio silence (no Songs since Jeju Air) maybe Changmin should throw in the towel and just go home. Chuseok is only the long weekend anyway. Come Wednesday, Changmin is due back to work. 

Every inch of him is screaming that leaving now would be the right thing to do. 

Changmin pulls the pad out again and blinks down at the sketch instead. 

His head remains worryingly quiet. The woman in the drawing does have a very pretty bow mouth, but nothing else about the sketch makes Changmin want to do more than throw it into the ocean. Sure, her eyes are pretty and she’s got double eyelids, but that’s the standard of beauty period, so Changmin’s not surprised. There’s already a smidge of dirt sitting beside her top lip, but for some reason, instead of annoying him, Changmin’s just looks at it and feels his stomach knot a little. 

He shakes his head. “You’re being ridiculous, Shim,” he mutters, wiping away the dirt and shoving the pad back into his bag. “You’re seeing things. You’re hungry.” 

Dinner is sounding wonderful right about now, actually. Changmin could keep up his searching ruse well into the night, but for some reason, he balks at the idea. As if on cue, Changmin’s stomach growls.

“Right,” he says to himself. “Dinner.” 

On his way up to the train tracks, Changmin finds himself humming a tune.

By the time he reaches them, he realizes he’s not just humming a tune: he’s singing the Baby Shark song. 

He laughs before he can help himself, shifts his bag on his shoulder, and consults a station map one last time. 

And then, because he’s alone on what wasn’t supposed to be a Song Search and somehow ended up being one anyway, he throws his head back and continues the song. 

Wherever he is, Changmin hopes his soulmate appreciates the irony. 

\--

Changmin didn’t pack many extra clothes, which becomes clear the next morning, when he’s fed and rested from a halfway decent bed and breakfast and embarking on the rest of his half-hearted Song Search.

He’d slept in boxers and nothing else because for some reason his room had been stifling, showered that morning to try to get the sweat off, and had come to the horrifying realization that he was going to have to put the same clothes on again.

“Fuck my life,” Changmin says.

He puts on the same clothes again.

His gut is saying he needs to reach a shoreline, water, sand, or something similar, and the shower hadn’t taken that edge off. In fact, it had only ramped up the desire, to the point where Changmin had said fuck it and rubbed one out despite the fact that he was not the only person in staying in this hotel.

Luckily, Japan is an island, so there are no shortage of islands. Unluckily, Changmin still hasn’t the faintest idea where he’s going beyond to the beach.

Which, granted, is probably not the best frame of mind to step out into an empty dirt road and start walking with, but Changmin does it regardless, bag over his shoulder, boots scuffing against the asphalt, and in yesterday’s clothes.

“This was a terrible idea,” he says to himself. He’s been walking for probably twenty minutes, and the weather is nice. His hair is clean, his clothes aren’t tragically dirty, and the sketch of the girl is still in his bag mocking him with her too-wrong bone structure, but Changmin’s feet are already starting to hurt from walking too long in the wrong shoes. 

He fights the urge to pull out his phone and message his friends. 

“You’re off the grid, Shim,” he says. At this point, he’s passed the point of caring about how easy it’s become to talk to himself. “It’s how it’s done.” 

Also, he’d checked his messages before his alarm finished waking him, and Kyuhyun and Minho were taking his silence as an admittance of a preference for breasts, and Changmin would like to be back in Seoul in order to rid them of that absurd notion.

“Granted,” Changmin continues still to himself. “You’re in the middle of nowhere hitchhiking along a road looking for a beach.” He laughs. “Maybe your soulmate really is a shark.” 

And he would have missed the car slowing for his outstretched thumb, but his foot hits a pebble and his balance goes wonky so Changmin turns and realizes some kind soul has stopped for him.

“Holy fuck,” Changmin swears to himself. He hurries to the car window. “Hi, sorry, uh, hi--” Languages are hard when you’ve been alone for twenty-four hours talking to yourself about sharks. “Thank you--” Changmin is fluent in Japanese; this is embarrassing. “I’m heading towards the beach.” He looks up finally and has to take a moment.

The man in the car has bow-shaped lips, dark almost night-blue hair, and is wearing spotted, golden, maybe-designer sunglasses. He’s got both hands on the wheel, and is looking at Changmin with his lips parted and head tilted to one side. 

Changmin ends up following the dip of his bangs down to the mole on the side of his mouth, which stands out sharply against the cream of his skin. 

For some mind-numbing moment, Changmin is tempted to whistle a tune. 

The man is still waiting for Changmin to figure himself out, however, so he tamps down on that ridiculous urge.

“Hi,” he starts again, in significantly better Japanese. “I’m heading to, uh--” He pauses, because words are hard when you’re following a hunch, and gets out his map, pointing. “Here.”

The man in the car follows Changmin’s fingers, almost looking shaken, before nodding. “Me too, actually,” he says. His voice is deeper than Changmin was expecting. “I’m glad you have a map, though. My phone’s dying.” 

And Changmin notices the device on the dashboard, open to a maps app, with the destination set to nowhere. 

“I’m Searching,” the man adds, unprompted. 

Changmin swallows. “Me too,” he offers, even though it seems stupid to offer such important information to a stranger. The stranger had said it first, though, so Changmin ought to be allowed. “I’m Changmin.” That is definitely not allowed, and Changmin wants to hit himself in the face. He doesn’t swear.

The man’s car doors unlock. “Changmin,” he says back.

Changmin thinks, _Fuck it_ , and pulls open the car door, tossing his bag into the backseat and getting into the passenger side. 

“I’m Yunho,” the man says. He says it in Korean. 

Changmin’s shoulders relax a little. “You’re not from here,” he determines, also in Korean. He’s defaulting to jondaemal, because better safe than sorry. 

Yunho starts the car again. “No,” he says. He’s still wearing the sunglasses, and for some reason Changmin hates that they’re keeping him from seeing the man’s eyes. “I’m actually only here for the holiday,” Yunho continues mildly. 

“Me too.” Changmin shifts in the seat, surprisingly not cramped, and glances down at Yunho’s legs. They’re long. Changmin wagers they might be close to the same height, standing up. 

His stomach feels funny. 

“My friends kind of pushed me into it,” he adds. 

Yunho drums his fingers along the wheel, and then gestures at his phone. “Can you lock it?” he asks. “Battery. And you have a map.” 

“Yeah, but I only know where I’m going on good days,” Changmin says wryly, but goes to lock Yunho’s phone anyway. He double clicks the screen totally not on purpose and is granted a frankly adorable photo of Yunho surrounded by children. 

Changmin blinks. 

“I’m a kindergarten teacher,” Yunho offers into the silence. 

Changmin startles. “Sorry.” He sets down the phone.

“No, I get you,” Yunho says. “I’m a stranger who isn’t spending Chuseok with his family. I would be digging too, just to make sure I wasn’t a child murderer.” 

Taking that as acquiescence, Changmin presses down on Yunho’s phone home button. “I’m not spending Chuseok with my family either,” he says at the same time. The phone screen flashes with the photo of Yunho and the smiling children. 

The man’s smiling and so are the children, but he’s also wearing a name tag that proclaims him Vitamin Yunho-seonsaengnim, and Changmin swallows a smile. He looks between the photo and the real-life man. “They all look way too happy for you to be a child murderer,” he says finally. 

Yunho tips down his sunglasses and takes advantage of the emptiness of the road to look at his own lock screen. “You’re right,” he says. 

Changmin feels smug and pleased for some reason and covers it with aplomb. “Although I will say it’s slightly concerning you had to check and see what your own lock screen is,” he says. 

Yunho snorts, and finally loses the glasses for good, tucking them into the collar of his t shirt and replacing his hand on the wheel on one fluid moment. It’s nice. Strong. Very dependable and safe. 

Changmin never liked any of those things at the same time before. He swallows. 

“I love my kids,” says Yunho. “I have a lot of photos of them.”

“Yeah… that’s creepy, too,” Changmin continues. “Strike two for not being a child murderer.” 

Yunho turns to grin at him. “Well, what are you?” he asks. 

Changmin settles himself more solidly into the seat, relaxing despite himself. “A chef,” he says.

Yunho turns back to the road, letting the car drift more solidly into the center of their lane. 

“In training,” Changmin adds.  

“Ah,” Yunho hums. “But are you a cannibalistic chef?”

Changmin snorts. “What, like Hannibal?”

“Changmin kind of sounds like Hannibal.”

“Changmin sounds nothing like Hannibal.” 

“You’re the stranger who got in my car with vague instructions to drive to a beach,” Yunho says. “For all I know you could be planning on killing me and eating me--”

“Um, for all I know you could be planning on kidnapping _me_ so that you can brainwash me into helping you murder children,” interrupts Changmin. There’s no grace about it. 

He and Yunho stare at each other in shocked silence for a moment, then burst out laughing. 

The tension settles and fades away. 

For a few moments, he and Yunho ride in silence. 

Then: 

“So how long have you been Searching for?” says Yunho.

“So, you’re Searching?” says Changmin. 

They both pause again, and smile. 

“Yes,” Yunho says, answering first. The road opens up a little, and he gives the car some gas. “Now you?”

Changmin drops an arm onto the window. “Do you want the real answer or the fake answer?” he says. “The real answer is sad.” 

Yunho glances at him. “Real, obviously,” he says. 

“Since I was fifteen,” Changmin says, like ripping off a bandaid. People tended to look at him funny once they knew. Hearing your first Song wasn’t supposed to precede sixteen years of back and forth singing, it was supposed to precede a Search, a first meeting, and happily ever after. 

Changmin is almost thirty-two, very recently employed, and not at all living happily ever after. 

Nobody looks at him quite the same after they know. Even Kyuline, and Kyuline haven’t rushed off in Search yet either.

Yunho doesn’t seem bothered. “That’s not the real answer,” he decides. 

Changmin blinks, startled. He hadn’t been expecting that, let alone for it to be so close to the truth. “Well, no,” he says. “But it’s kind of the real answer?”

Yunho darts a look at him. 

“I heard my first Song when I was fifteen?” Changmin tries. “I’ve only been looking since yesterday.”

Yunho smiles. “Now that sounds like a real answer,” he says. 

Changmin scowls at him. “You sound like a teacher,” he says.

Yunho lifts an eyebrow. “Well…” he says.

Changmin feels himself blush. “Shut up.” 

“Spoken like a true chef--oh wait.” 

“Shut _up_ ,” Changmin says again, still blushing. “Yunho… ssi?” The honorific comes out stilted and confused. 

“I’m 1986,” Yunho says. 

“1988,” Changmin replies happily. “Yunho-hyung.” 

Yunho looks at him. “What?”

“Nothing, just, if we go out to eat--”

“Which we will, since you’ve already gotten to see my teacher voice and I need to see your chef voice--” Yunho interjects immediately.

“You’re going to have to pay,” Changmin finishes pleasantly, not disagreeing. “Cause you’re older.” 

Yunho stares at him with his mouth half open for a moment, then laughs. “I like you, Changmin” he says. He says Changmin’s name like he wants to give Changmin a diminutive nickname. 

Changmin pulse jumps a little. “Thank you,” he says politely.

They lapse back into silence. 

“So, what made you want to start Searching?” Changmin says.

“Have you heard any Songs today?” Yunho says.

Then they both stop again and laugh some more. 

“Sorry,” says Changmin, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I’ve missed talking to people.” 

Yunho lifts an eyebrow. “Have you just been walking along this road all day?”

“No,” Changmin replies immediately. “I just meant people. Koreans. I’m really bad at Japanese.” 

Yunho mouth rounds into a circle. “You’re not bad at Japanese,” he says. 

Changmin snorts. “I’m really bad at Japanese.” He swipes at his hair and faces Yunho more fully. “I’ve been scared shitless that my soulmate was going to be some Japanese man all morning,” he says. “I used to be fluent, but I haven’t been in ages, and knowing my luck the first thing I said to him was going to be something stupid--”

“Hi, please take me to the beach?” Yunho says in Japanese immediately.

Changmin feels comfortable enough to punch him in the arm. “Shut up,” he says good naturedly. “I panicked; I didn’t think anybody was going to stop for me.” 

“Yeah, well,” Yunho says. Then he blinks. “Sorry, _him_?”

Changmin feels himself go cold but holds his ground. “I learned the military march early,” he says, with care. “Kind of a rude awakening, if I do say so.” 

Yunho meets his eyes full on. “I’ll say,” the other man says, also evenly. “Imagine my surprise when I had to listen to that for four years instead of two.” 

Changmin blinks and feels his cheeks warm. “So you--”

“Yep,” Yunho hums, syllable bright. “And it means I’m older, so…”

Changmin snorts. “That’s stupid,” he says, “People enlist all the time--some people go early.”

“I went because the alternative was law school,” Yunho says mildly. “Right out of undergrad. I guess you could say that was early.” 

Changmin digests that. “You were almost a lawyer?”

Yunho nods. “My entire family are lawyers.”

Changmin mulls that over. “I could see that,” he decides.

“I hated it,” Yunho continues. 

Changmin winces. “Sorry.”

“My dream was to be a singer, actually,” Yunho continues not seeming bothered. “I even auditioned and got accepted by a company.”

Changmin blinks. He can see the beach up ahead, peeking out from the trees. The parking lot is deserted because it’s September, Changmin assumes. The sun looks like it’ll be setting in an hour or so. He shifts in his seat. “That’s funny,” he says finally. “I was almost a singer too.” 

Yunho pulls the car into an empty parking spot and leaves his hands on the wheel and his foot on the break. 

The engine hums. 

Changmin waits for his gut to give him a sign.

Yunho puts the car in park. 

Changmin sighs. 

“No luck?” Yunho says.

Changmin lets his head thud back against the car seat. “Well unless you see someone else here…” he says. 

Yunho snickers. “Maybe your soulmate is a shark,” he says. Then he gets out of the car, not even reaching for his phone. 

Changmin is left staring after him with his mouth open, very suddenly unable to breathe. “What?”

Yunho goes back into the car to take the keys out and pulls his sunglasses back on with his other hand. “Or a seagull?” Yunho’s not looking at Changmin, too busy grabbing his own stuff out of the back of the car. “Come on. I’ve always wanted to make a fire on a beach.” 

Changmin grabs his own bag and unfolds from the front seat. “That doesn’t sound concerning at all,” he says. His heart is still pounding a little, but Yunho’s clearly just making a joke about the emptiness of the beach.

It’s a coincidence that Changmin made that joke earlier.

It’s a happenstance that Changmin had been hearing the Baby Shark Song all week. 

He glances down at his shoes. “I am not dressed for the beach.” 

Yunho follows his line of sight and slams the car door after a pause. “Same,” he says. “Oops.” 

Changmin bends to pull his boots off and Yunho follows suit. They leave them on the car roof. 

“Away from the sand,” Yunho says, and winks.

“There really isn’t anyone here,” Changmin says again, to hide how his heart is suddenly racing.

“It’s okay, Changminnie,” Yunho says pleasantly, sinking into the sand with both bare feet immediately. “I’ll still be your friend even if your soulmate is a seagull.” 

Changmin’s cheeks flame. “Shut up,” he says embarrassedly.

Yunho grins but goes walking down the beach anyway. “Help me find some driftwood!” he calls back over his shoulder. “Dry stuff. It’s going to get cold soon!” 

“We don’t have matches!” Changmin says. “I can’t start a fire without matches!”

“I can!” Yunho calls back. Then he holds up his hand with the tiny box anyway.

“It’s going to get cold soon since the sun is going down--we should turn around!”

“Driftwood!” Yunho says.

Changmin rolls his eyes but follows after him anyway.

\--

It’s surprisingly easy to start a beach bonfire. 

They have to take a few of the empty pages of Changmin’s Search notebook (and Yunho looks at Changmin’s drawing with an odd expression on his face) but between them and the matches, they manage to get a warming blaze going in time for the sun to start slipping down along the horizon. 

Yunho drags a larger bit of driftwood for them to sit on, and Changmin finds himself settled down next to the other man gazing into the fire without any more fanfare.

They had a sand fight over the right type of wood for the fire. That ended with sand in Yunho’s eye, and Changmin feeling like a drama hero, helping to blow it away. 

They’d talked more about themselves--Yunho had been teaching for years; his father was only just starting to come around to it; he was seventeen when he heard his first Song, and he hadn’t known what it was until Changmin blinked at him and said, laughing, “That was my audition song.” 

The only reason Yunho is Searching _now_ is because his baby sister is married with a baby, and he’s well on his way to thirty-three.

“I always said I’d be married once I was thirty-three,” Yunho said.

Changmin blinked at him and tried not to mention the fact that he’s thirty-one and marriage terrifies him. 

His own life story felt tame by comparison--he hadn’t run away to join SM Entertainment (“I can’t believe we both auditioned--” “Yeah, well, you at least got in--” “Still--”), and his parents had been supportive of his venture into cooking and the restaurant business. 

Yunho had rubbed the back of his neck and said he’d have traded his stint in Four Seasons for a more supportive father.

Changmin hadn’t known what to do with his hands.

He’d settled for clasping them in his lap.

Despite their very different upbringings, there had also been similarities. They both have baby sisters. They both are the men of the family. They both are very proud, though Yunho shows it more in his actions, and Changmin is a little less shy about his academic achievements. 

They even had the length of Search in common, which Changmin honestly thinks has to be the best part. 

“So, you were all set to make fun of me for not looking for sixteen years when you haven’t been looking either?” 

“I was busy,” Yunho protests. “All my dreams had just died. And also, I never said sixteen years--how did you know?”

“I’m thirty, here,” Changmin explains. “Sixteen years ago, I was fourteen… fifteen, and I heard my first Song.” He shrugs. “‘Peace’ by Lee Junghyun-noona, oddly enough.” 

Yunho mouth has fallen open. “What?”

“Yeah it was weird,” Changmin continues. “It happened right in the middle of my SM audition. Ruined my rhythm and everything.” He snorts. “Not that I had rhythm.”

Yunho is still staring at him with his mouth open. 

“I’m a terrible dancer,” Changmin says. “Which--I’m sure everyone is worse than you by comparison, given you got into SM because you won a dance competition in 2000.”

Yunho swallows. “1999.”

“But I am terrible.” Changmin gives in and does a little bit of a body wave. “I probably wouldn’t have gotten in if I’d tried to dance, but you try dancing to one thing and listening to another.” 

Yunho finally clears his throat. “My audition song was ‘Peace’ by Lee Junghyun-noona,” he says finally. His voice is a rasp. “I used to sing it all the time in 2002. It reminded me why I was there in the first place.” 

Changmin shivers a little in the cold and rubs his hands together. “I’m going to burn more things,” he decides, standing. “Do you think we can find more wood?”

“Changmin-ah.” 

Changmin gives up pretenses and pulls the notepad out of his bag. “I’m going to burn the drawing,” he says and rips it out. “It’s stupid.” He stares down at the lines of it and isn’t very cold anymore because of how angry it makes him. “This entire situation is stupid. Soulmates are stupid.” 

Changmin folds it, purses his lips, then puts it in the fire. 

For two moments, he watches it burn. 

Then he finally turns to look back at Yunho. “Sorry, hyung, I know you think Searching is a big deal--”

“It is, though,” Yunho says softly, voice almost indiscernible. “It is special. Changmin.” 

“But there is absolutely no way that that piece of paper is going to help me find whoever it is,” Changmin finishes. It’s freeing to say it. He casts his gaze skyward. “That’s just some romanticized drawing a lady gave me when I lied and told her he most recent Song I heard wasn’t the Jeju Air ad song--”

“I flew Jeju Air--Changmin--”

“--Or some children’s nursery rhyme.” Changmin feels light and giddy and kind of like laughing.

“Nursery rhyme?” Yunho is asking but Changmin’s not really listening. 

“Yeah that shark song?” Changmin answers anyway. “ _Baby Shark doo doo, doo doo doo doo, baby shark doo doo, doo doo doo doo._ ” He’s singing and doing the dance before he can help himself, shaking his head. “I’ve had that song in my head for weeks, Yunho-hyung. It’s awful. I’m bad at making bread anyway, but before I left for Chuseok I ruined like twenty-five loaves.” 

Yunho’s shirt has fallen off his shoulders, and he’s staring at Changmin with his mouth open wide. “Changmin-ah.” 

Changmin is starting to feel like he’s missed something. “What?” 

Yunho doesn’t unfreeze. “Say that again,” he says. 

“What?” Changmin tries. “Hyung--”

“Sing that again,” Yunho repeats, voice firmer and more solid now. 

Changmin blinks at him with his brow furrowed. “Have you not heard the Baby Shark Song before, Yunho-hyung?” he asks, frowning. “It’s a whole family-- _grandpa shark doo doo, doo doo doo doo_ , and all,” he sings, miming the distinctly less-fanged grandfather part for the dance.

Yunho’s breath whistles through his teeth. He reaches out to take Changmin by both hands. 

“Um,” Changmin says. “Yunho-hyung?” 

“Changmin-ah,” Yunho says, but he’s smiling now. “Changdol. Hi.” 

Changmin blinks back at him a few more times, very confused. “Yunho… hyung…?”

Before he can say more, Yunho is tightening his grip on Changmin’s hands and hauling him to his feet. 

Changmin goes with him because the alternative is falling into the fire, but he goes confused and with his eyes squinting. “What--”

Yunho finishes getting Changmin to his feet and pushes him to stand in the middle of the beach facing the shoreline. “Don’t move,” he says, and then he’s running out into the water. 

For a second Changmin just sort of stares at him. The sun isn’t all the way down yet, but it’s getting colder and soon their fire will be the only light source and Yunho could be trying to die like some girl in a drama, for all Changmin knows, so he raises his voice and tunnels his eyes with a hand to squint at Yunho.

“Yunho-hyung!” Changmin shouts. “What--”

“Changmin-ah!” Yunho voice carries somehow, but he’s out of the water on a patch of land several meters away so Changmin has to work to hear. “Can you hear me?” 

Changmin keeps squinting at him. “Yes?” he shouts back, incredibly confused. “What are you doing--come back--” He steps forward, then stops when Yunho starts waving frantically at him. “Hyung! I can’t hear you! What--”  

In his head, like the last rays of the sun setting above them, Changmin hears it. He hadn’t given it words when he conceived of it during his college years. It had been a moment of weakness. Changmin at his family’s piano, finally letting himself be angry about how his inability to even try the army clap had lost him a dream he didn’t know he’d wanted until it was gone. Singing had been icing on the revenge cake, since it was his soulmate who ruined things for him in the first place. People used to say that whatever you were feeling when you were singing came through along with the melody. Changmin had thought, _Good_ , and hoped that whoever had said that was right. 

He hadn’t thought of the song since then, never so much as put pen to paper or tried to make it have more than lilting melodies, but standing on a beach looking out at a man and the ocean, Changmin hears it like it was yesterday. 

The lap of the water hits his toes. 

The light of the sun dips behind Yunho’s hair. 

“‘Sun and Rain,’” Changmin says suddenly. “Yunho-hyung.” 

“Changmin-ah.” Yunho moves closer, still shouting, but more subdued now. “Did you hear that?” 

Changmin blinks. “What?” he says. “How?” he says. ‘ _Nobody has heard that song but me,’_ he doesn’t say.

Yunho just smiles at him and starts to wade through the water.

Changmin backs up when he does so, blood roaring in his ears, drowning out all other sounds. It doesn’t matter, though. This time he can see Yunho’s lips move around the words--a song by Kwon Boa now, stepped down into male range. Changmin shouldn’t be able to hear that much. Changmin shouldn’t be able to know. 

His heart pounds. 

An ocean rises in his ears. 

Yunho voice, Yunho’s  _Song_ , plays in Changmin’s head. 

Changmin breathes. “Oh my God.” The words come out in a great terrible rush. “Oh my God.” 

Yunho is coming closer to him on the beach, still singing, and Changmin opens his mouth to segue them away from Boa to X Japan before he can help himself. 

He can see the moment Yunho realizes, watches pure joy sprawl its way across his face, and then Changmin is the one running towards him before he can stop himself.

They meet in the middle like a pair of blushing school children, close enough they could take each other’s hands, but not doing so. 

The water is lapping at their feet and it’s too cold to be standing in it, but Changmin doesn’t care.

Changmin looks into Yunho’s eyes and sees his own fear and wonder mirrored back. 

He says, “You made me ruin twenty-five rolls because of that damn shark song.”

Yunho laughs. “Sorry. The kids love it.”

Changmin is grinning so hard his face hurts. “That’s another thing. All of my coworkers thought you were a kindergartener because of that song.”

Yunho’s answering smile is radiant. “Did you somehow forget to mention that week I spent taking a pole dancing class?”

Changmin’s breath catches. 

“None of the songs I sang that week were childlike.”

He takes Yunho’s hands. “No,” he says. “They certainly were not.” 

“And also.” Yunho keeps their hands interlinked even as he starts them out of the water back towards the fire, sand sticking to the soles of their feet and climbing up their ankles. “Your shower repertoire is embarrassing, Changmin-ah.” Yunho grins. “I thought _you_ were a teenage girl until the army.”

“SNSD have fantastic range,” Changmin says with great dignity. “Also, my best friend is convinced f(x)’s Victoria is his soulmate, so I had reasons.”

“Uh-huh.” Yunho is still grinning so widely Changmin’s cheeks ache in sympathy. Or maybe he’s smiling too. He’s not sure. “Keep telling yourself that.” 

“At least I sing current songs in the shower,” says Changmin. “What era is Michael Jackson from again?”

Yunho’s eyes narrow. “Ours,” he says. “Changdol.” 

“How did you even know I was in the shower, anyway?” 

Yunho’s cheeks blush and he finally lets go of Changmin’s hand. 

Changmin thinks back to his own shower serenades, thinks about the way it felt to be on the receiving end whenever Yunho was belting show tunes to his shower head, and  _blushes_.

Neither of them meet each other eyes.

“Anyway,” Yunho says after the pause dies. “It’s nice to meet you, finally.”

Changmin swallows his embarrassment and smiles at him some more. “You’re not going to kiss me, are you?” he asks. He’s not sure what he wants the answer to be. 

Yunho’s eyes crinkle at the corners in time for the sun to finally dip down behind the horizon and plunge them into lit-by-flame darkness. “Changminnie, I’ve only just met you,” he says. 

“But you’re already calling me Changminnie,” Changmin says, which isn’t, ‘but the universe decided you were made for me,’ so he’s counting it as a win. 

Yunho can probably tell he doesn’t mind the nickname. “I feel like I know you,” he says. 

Changmin sighs. “Me too.” 

Yunho doesn’t kiss him.

Yunho doesn’t kiss him, just smiles at him, flashes barely-there dimples at him, and holds his hand and walks them a back to the fire to share secrets under the stars until the embers burn out. 

Changmin drives them back because Yunho drove them there, and they end up on the same flight back to Seoul sharing an arm rest trying not to be too saccharine for their fellow passengers.

Changmin texts Kyuhyun back finally to let the other man know that true love is real and happy endings really do happen for the best of them, and it’s sucks that Kyuhyun will never get one because he a terrible friend and a worse wingman. 

Minho texts Changmin heartfelt congratulations.

Yunho leaves Changmin his number, and hums the fucking shark song all the way to his car. 

It takes them two years to move in together, three years to make a home together, and Changmin gets Yunho back for all the nursery rhymes when he’s least expecting it.

“I was in parent teacher conferences,” Yunho tells him through gritted teeth after such an instance, glowering at Changmin over streetcar teokbokki and twitching a little. 

Changmin rounds his mouth around a particularly spicy piece and sucks the entire thing loudly. 

Yunho is definitely twitching now. “Changdol-ah.”

“You don’t like ‘Heaven’s Day’?” Changmin asks. When Yunho doesn’t respond, he clarifies, “That’s what I’m calling it, anyway, I sent you the lyrics--”

“Yes, which I now realize was a fucking bear trap, since the only reason I heard more than melody was because I knew the song.” Yunho’s expression has started to darken in a way that lets Changmin know he’s going to have to listen to more pole dancing songs when he’s supposed to be in charge of an entire kitchen. 

“Yunho-hyung, please, you’re not a bear,” Changmin says anyway, because he has a death wish. He finishes his teokbokki and tosses his napkins into the sidewalk trash can so that he can get as far away from the other man as possible. “You’re more like a shark--”

Yunho catches him around the waist and growls at him, before rocking back on his feet and folding his hands neatly in front of himself. “So are you,” he says politely.

Changmin’s breath catches. 

Yunho’s eyes flash. 

Changmin spends the next two weeks with Sunmi blasting behind his temples, but really cannot be bothered. 

Turns out Yunho still knows people from his stint in Four Seasons, and those people were more than happy to hook Yunho up with the actual choreography to the dance. 

Changmin doesn’t mind having to listen to ‘Gashina’ every day for every hour. Not when he gets to go home to his own personal performance. 

It’s nice, having a soulmate.

It’s nice, being Yunho’s Song.

\--

end.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr masterpost](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/175638540600/let-me-be-the-song-in-your-head-let-me-be-the) || [Twitter masterpost](https://twitter.com/zimriya/status/1015565702806335488)
> 
> CHECK OUT THE [BEAUTIFUL EDIT](http://zimriya.tumblr.com/post/175638854875/mobiledoll-realistically-changmin-knows-he) THAT ACCOMPANIES THIS ALSO.


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